Changes For Love
by LegolasLover2003
Summary: My own take on the Season Six episode, After Life. It is all from Spike's point of view.
1. Introduction

Introduction

  
  


It was late, well, early for me actually. As I picked up my black duster from the chair, I wondered once again, if I could have done it all differently. Dreams played out in my mind. It was always the same. I'd save her, I would always save her . . . but that wasn't how it happened. I shook my head, opened the crypt's door, and headed out. I would fulfill my promise. I would protect her, the key, Buffy's sister. A sigh escaped me, more habit than need, and the I found myself counting the days since the Slayer's death.

But now, it was time for me to head over to the Summer's household and watch Dawn for the evening. A promise is a promise


	2. Defying Death

Defying Death

  
  
  
  


I started my motorcycle and speed off toward Buffy's house. In the past few hours, a gang of biker demons known as Hellions had made Sunnydale their personal playground. Somehow, word had gotten out that the Slayer was dead, something the Scoobies and I had worked hard to protect. After stealing one of their motorcycles, Dawn and I had rode as far away as we could, only to find the smashed remains of the Buffybot lying next to a bonfire. Too me, it was just a bot... but it scarred Dawn something fierce. Now, she'd run off and the only place I figured she'd be was back at home. I passed through a side street, looking for any sign of Dawn, hoping I could catch her before she got into trouble.

"Dawn!" I called, slowing my motorcycle down and looking around. "Gotta be somewhere, gotta be somewhere."

Accelerating, I speed through the street.

"Dawn!" I called out once more, but to no avail. "Where could she be?" I found myself asking, shaking my head. "If she went and got herself hurt . . . " I trailed off, continuing toward the Summer's home.

  
  


Parking my bike outside, I hurried up to the door and let myself in. I looked around, in the kitchen and dinning area, but Dawn was nowhere to be seen.

"Dawn? Dawn! Are you there?" I called out urgently, worries starting to set in.

"I'm here!" came her voice from upstairs.

I shook my head and rushed toward the staircase, "Thank God. You scared me half to death . . . or more to death. You . . . I could kill you." I was out of breath, recovering from near panic. 

"Spike . . . " Dawn said, coming down the stairs to greet me.

"I mean it. I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brain stem." I replied, using my hand as a visual.

Dawn stepped to the side of the stairs, "Look." She said.

I looked behind her, seeing Buffy come down the steps, "Yeah? I've seen the bloody 

bot before. Didn't think she'd patch up so . . . " but then I stopped.

Tilting my head to the side slightly, I could feel an expression of shock rise on my face. Buffy looked at me as she rubbed at her hands a little. Dawn remained silent for the moment.

"She's kind of, um . . . She's been through a lot . . . with the . . . death. But I think she's okay." Dawn started. 

I could feel her watching me as I continued to stare at her older sister. 

I just couldn't take my eyes off her. I didn't know if I should be happy or upset or just remain confused. Buffy was back from the dead, something I had wished for and dreamed about for many long nights. But now that she was back, was here . . . I just couldn't find the right words to say.

"Spike? Are you okay?" Dawn asked.

I blinked, "I'm . . . what did you do?" I just couldn't get over the shock.

"Me? Nothing." Dawn said, defending herself.

I looked at Buffy from head to toe, realizing, for the first time, that I was not dreaming. That it was real this time. 

"Her hands." I finally spoke.

Buffy moved her hands behind her back. A shy look on her face. 

"Um, I was gonna fix 'em. I don't know how they got like that." Dawn replied, taking a step down the stairs.

The look of shock passed on and was replaced by one of understanding, "I do. Clawed her way out of a coffin, that's how." I looked Buffy in the eyes, "Isn't that right?"

She nodded slightly, looking at her hands in bewilderment, "Yeah. That's . . . what I had to do."

A sad smile passed over my face, "Done it myself." Then I realized that I had been standing, starring at Buffy for quite sometime. 

I pulled myself back to reality and reached my hand out to her, letting my fingers brush her shoulder slightly, "Um . . . We'll take care of you. Come here. " I was worried for her, the poor girl wasn't herself, might never be herself again.

Buffy walked down the rest of the staircase, Dawn right behind her. She headed toward the living room with me hovering over her in protection.

"Get some stuff, uh, Mercurochrome, bandages." I directed Dawn who acknowledged and headed back upstairs.

It was all too good to be true, Buffy was back, alive . . . but I had some questions of my own that needed answering. However, I was patient, and they could wait. Buffy didn't really seem herself. 

We sat down and I reached out, taking Buffy's hands into my own. In my mind I tried to remain calm, but I could feel my hands shaking slightly. Buffy looked at me and I just stared back, what may be the beginnings of a smile playing on my face.

"How long was I gone?" she asked me.

I tried to clear my throat, my voice seeming lost, "Hundred forty-seven days yesterday. Uh . . .   
hundred forty-eight today. 'Cept today doesn't count, does it?" a small smile crept onto my face but Buffy just nodded, "How long was it for you . . . where you were?" I finally asked.

She appeared to think for a moment, reluctant to say anything, "Longer."

At that moment, Dawn returned, "Got the stuff." She said as she laid a first aid kit next to me.

Suddenly the front door burst open and Buffy and I turned to watch Xander, Willow, Anya, and Tara rush into the living room.

"Is she here?" Willow asked urgently.

Buffy and I stood up, no longer holding hands. I however, retreated to the back of the room while Buffy's pals crowded around her.

"She's here!" Anya said, standing next to Xander.

"You're here." joy flowed from Willow's features.

Xander looked happier than anyone else, "We didn't know where you were."

"You ran away." Anya stated.

Willow spoke up next, "Buffy!"

Bloody idiots, I thought.

"Are you okay?" Tara asked.

Buffy was now sitting on the sofa again.

Dawn looked at them in confusion, "You knew she was back? How did you know?"

I shook my head and walked out the front door, my departure going unnoticed. 

  
  
  
  


"Those bloody idiots . . . " I whispered to myself, stopping next to a tree in Buffy's front yard. 

Leaning my head against the it's trunk, my pent up emotions began to overflow. Tears streamed down my face as I let out a sigh, trying to deaden the confusion and relief of seeing her alive once more.

Voices become clear. It was Xander and Anya walking from the porch.

"I think Willow's wrong. I don't think she's particularly normal at all." Anya said to her boyfriend.

"Well, she just got back. Give her time. I bet in a week she'll be our little Bufferin again." Xander replied as they continued walking.

They neared the middle of the yard, "Oh yes, because six or seven days, that's really all you really need to get over eternal hell experiences."

"Who's that? Spike?"

I heard Xander say my name and quickly managed to dry most of the tears from my cheeks, just as the two reached me.

"What are you doing out here? I hope you're not going to start your little obsession now that she's around again. " I cut him off.

Grabbing Xander by his shirt, I swung him around and into the tree trunk. I leaned toward him, anger, frustration, and pain all filling my face. A small wince is all the chip in my head allowed.

"Ow!" we said as both of us experienced pain of our own.

But I shook it off quickly, "You didn't tell me. You brought her back and you didn't tell me." I said threateningly. 

"Well, now you know." Xander replied.

Glaring at him, "I worked beside you all summer. Hundred and forty-seven bleedin, days. I saved your sorry lives, all of you."

"Um . . . thank you and please stop pressing against my boyfriend?" Anya said, having worked her way beside the both of us.

"We didn't tell you. It was just . . . we didn't, okay? Maybe you should stop being a problem for a second and just be glad that she's back." Xander said, trying his best to calm me down.

It didn't work, "Listen. I've figured it out. Maybe you haven't, but I have." I whispered, but I could feel my face change and knew that I was ready to cry, "Willow knew there was a chance she'd come back wrong. So wrong that you'd have . . . " I fought to compose myself, "that she would have to get rid of what came back. And I wouldn't let her. If any part of that was Buffy, I wouldn't let her. And that's why she shut me out."

Xander shook his head, "What are you talking about? Willow wouldn't do that!"

"Oh. Is that right?" I questioned, tilting my head a bit. 

"Look. You're just covering. Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes, and tell me when you saw Buffy alive, that wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence."

Releasing Xander, I backed away, continuing to glare at him but not saying a word. He didn't get it . . . and probably never would. 

Finally, I reached my motorcycle and climbed on, "That's the thing about magic? There's always consequences. Always!" I yelled at them before speeding away back to my crypt.


	3. Emotional Overload

Emotional Overload

  
  
  
  


I found myself returning home. Sure, it would have been like me to head over to Willy's bar and wind up the next morning passed out in some back alleyway. But getting smashed and havin' the sun catch my hand on fire wasn't exactly my idea of solving a problem . . . not this one anyway. 

The walls of my crypt were cold and hard, comforting to me. They weren't bright, the types o' colors to hurt my eyes. Bugger, so many thoughts ran through my head that I couldn't have givin' you the time o' day. Buffy was back and the shock was still tryin' to run through me, tryin' to make it's way to my mind and tell myself that, 'Stupid bloke, you're not dreamin'.' But all I could feel was pain. Pain at being treated like a convenience, somethin' or someone, that the Scoobies could just call on when times were tight. My conflicting emotions spread through my body like fire, consumed me, and took hold of me.

I climbed down the ladder and into the lower tunnels of the crypt. The lights were low, the bed in disarray. Everything was as it should be. I tossed my duster across the room. It landed on a chair. Falling back onto the bed, a single tear slid down my cheek. It was early, but I didn't care. Emotional shock'll drain the life . . . or in my case, unlife, out of anyone. I closed my eyes, knackered from the long day. Sighing, I tried to let the pain, sorrow, and joy slip from my mind and soon, found myself asleep.

  
  


Hours later I awoke. Night had passed and the sun had risen, turning the night into day. This of course meant that I had to work out my problems at home. I was beginning to think gettin smashed wasn't such a bad idea.

Standing, I found my mind instantly occupied with the thoughts from the previous evening. They distracted me, making me jumpy and a little uneasy. Pacing back and forth I could feel my mind becoming all the more restless. 

"Bloody Xander. The blind and blithering idiot. Not telling me they were bringin' back the Slayer." I fumed, continuing my pacing. "I help'em out, do their dirty work. And for what?! So they can jus' shut me out and think I'll go away! Bollocks!" Throwing my hands into the air, I put on my best mocking of Xander's voice, "'I hope you aren't going to start your little obsession now that she's around again.' Bugger-it! It's not an obsession, it's . . ." I stopped, looking at my hands, palms facing me.

Was it truly not an obsession? I had convinced myself long ago that I loved her . . . but was it all just a childish obsession? Was Xander right? 

I shook my head, clearing the thought from my mind, "Might've started out that way. . ." I whispered, "But it's somethin' real. Somethin' I feel deep down inside." My hand was over my still heart and I smirked, remembering something I'd said while half sober a couple years back, 'Love isn't brains children, it's blood. Blood screaming through your veins to work it's will. I may be love's bitch, but 'least I'm man enough to admit it.'

Suddenly, I turned, without even thinking, and slammed my fist into the wall. I began to laugh, hysterically, as I looked at my bleeding knuckles. And I would have resorted to tears had a sound not startled me.

Turning, I grabbed a dagger, alarm rising, and unsheathed it's blade. Climbing up the ladder, I peered around the crypt, lit vaguely from sunlight.

There, standing in front of a table and half looking through a stack of magazines, she stood.

"Buffy?"

She turned to me, a blank expression on her face. Something was wrong.

"You should be careful." I said quietly, showing her the dagger at my side, "Never know what kind o' villain's got a knife at your back."

Buffy just watched me, then noticed my bloodied hand, "Your hand is hurt."

I shrugged, nodding to her own hands, "Hmm. Same with you."

She looked at them, "Right."

Looking at her, a feeling of unease crept into my stomach. She just stared at me, standing there, her eyes devoid of life, of any spark of hope. I wasn't sure what to do, but knew that I had to put the knife away. Didn't want her getting jumpy 'round me just yet. I walked over to the wall and set the dagger down on a ledge then turned back to Buffy.

"Willow's gettin' pretty strong, isn't she? Bringing you back. It's hard to get a good night's death around here." I tried to laugh, but the sound came out weakly. I kept myself from sighing, "You can sit down. Got furniture."

Buffy found the nearest chair and sat down.

"You should see the downstairs, too, it's quite posh." she just looked at me with those same lifeless eyes. 

I couldn't contain the sigh and sat down on the table across from her. But her stare lingered.

"Uh . . ." I tried to start up some sort of conversation, "I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her." There was a pause, I wasn't sure if I should tell her this . . . not yet . . . "If I had done that . . ." too late, "even if I didn't make it . . . you wouldn't have had to jump."

God, why wouldn't she say anything?! Buffy continued to stare at me, almost like she were looking into my soul . . . well, if I had a soul that's what she'd have been doin'.

"But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it counted, o' course, but . . . after that." here it came, "Every night after that. I'd see it all again . . . do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens o' times, lots o' different ways . . ." my speech came softly, "Every night I save you."

She looked away from me then, down to the floor. I stopped, standing and kneeling to face her.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No . . ." Buffy shook her head, "No, it's alright. I . . ." she stood, "Look, I've got to go. The others are expecting me, at the Magic Box."

"Buffy wait . . ." but she was too fast and had left before I could get out another word.

I slammed my already bloodied fist into the ground, cursing myself, my stupidity, my emotions. Once again, the 'big bad' attitude, which I had maintained so well for years, faded and I let the tears fall.


	4. Truth’s Revealed

Truth's Revealed

The day was quickly turning into afternoon, of that I was certain. The appearance of Buffy earlier that morning had startled me, a little more than it should have, and I had reacted foolishly. I hated myself for it, for telling her about the dreams, about trying to save her.

The lifelessness of her eyes haunted me and I couldn't even get to sleep.

Slipping outside through the sewers, I wondered what her fellow Scoobies were up to.

"Bet bloody Xander's still thinkin' the Slayer's normal." I said, slowly climbing out of the manhole, careful to make sure no stray ray of sunlight touched me.

I was behind the Magic Box, a place where the likes of me were rarely welcome. Giles had thrown me out enough times. But during the bout with Glory, I was wanted once more. Buffy knew I could help and she knew I could be trusted... if only I hadn't.

I shook the thought away as voices from inside the store became clear to me. The words were hard to make out but I tuned down the background noise and got a clear picture of what they were saying.

"You brought me back. I was in a ... I was in hell. I, um ... I can't think too much about what it was like. But it felt like the world abandoned me there. And then suddenly ... you guys did what you did."

Buffy.

My mind became unfocused for a second, knowing that she would most likely say something about earlier that day.

"It was Willow. She knew what to do." I heard Tara say.  
"Okay. So you did that. And the world came rushing back. Thank you. You guys gave me the world. I can't tell you what it means to me."

She didn't sound very convincing with that last bit, I thought, wondering what was up.

"And I should have said it before."  
Willow's voice came out clear, "You're welcome." 

"Welcome home, Buffy."

That bloody Xander again, I couldn't stand him. And I would've burst in during the middle of what I knew had to be a big group hug... save for one thing. 

I was trying to figure out what that one thing was when the back door to the Magic Box opened and out stepped the one person I was both dreading and delighting in seeing, Buffy.

She began to walk a few paces away from me, not even noticing I was there. Inside, my emotions conflicted. They told me to leave her be, let her run off on her own and work out her problems at home. The other half of me, a half I ignored for over a century, told me to stop her. I had to find out what was wrong, why she looked like life had no meaning, what was making her give the world the cold shoulder.

"Buffy."

She looked up, spotting me standing in the alleyway. Her lost look changed to one of confusion.

"Spike, it's daylight and you're..."

"Not on fire?" I looked toward the sky, the beautiful blue sky, "Sun's low enough, shady enough here."

That look reappeared on her face as she folded her arms around her stomach.

I had to start up conversation, "I was gonna go inside, but I overheard you and the Super-friends exchanging a special moment and I came over a bit queasy."

What was I saying?! Why was I lying to her like that, it wasn't what I thought at all! But Buffy just wiped a stray hair from her face, a faraway I'm-not-listening look overcoming her features.

"Say, aren't you leaving a hole in the middle of some soggy group huh?" I asked, hoping she would come around eventually.

She sat down on a packing crate, not more than a couple feet from me, "Just wanted a little time alone."

"Oh, uh, right then." I stood, that half of me screaming to stay by her side. I began to walk away, ignoring the little voice in my head but soon reached the shadow's line.

It was then that I realized that the voice in my head was going to win. I couldn't leave the alley, not this way anyway, not now when the sun had risen so very high. Stopping, I squinted up at the sky.

"That's okay." Buffy's voice came from behind me, "I can be alone with you here."

"Thanks ever so." I replied, still looking at the sky before turning and giving Buffy a rueful smile.

"Right."

I realized then that something was terribly wrong. She had acted this way in my crypt, but now that I saw her in the daylight, her beautiful features seemed darkened by an inner shadow.

"Buff?... Slayer? Are you okay?"

Watching, she composed herself and nodded, "I'm here. I'm good."

She wasn't good, here yes, but good, no. Walking back to her I felt my face gain an expression of deep worry.

"Buffy, if you're in... if you're in pain... or if you need anything... or if I can do anything for you..."

"You can't." she blurted out, looking down at her lap.

At first I worried that I'd said something wrong so I tried to lighten the mood a little, "Well, I haven't been to a hell dimension just of late," I sat on a crate next to her, "but I do know a thing or two about torment."

"I was happy."

The words took a moment to register in my mind as I looked down at her in confusion.

"Wherever I... was... I was happy. At peace."

Merciful darkness, she wasn't in hell... I should've seen if before, those idiot friends of hers... they...

"I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time... didn't mean anything... nothing had form... but I was still me, you know?" Buffy's eyes focused on me for a moment before looking away.

She was hurting, hurting more than I could've ever imagined. I hadn't the foggiest idea that this was what was wrong. We all suspected it was post hell trauma... but this...

"And I was warm... and I was loved... and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or... any of it, really... but I think I was in heaven."

No Buffy... no... I thought, continuing to stare at her. The confusion on my face turned to a look of dismay. Something inside of me ached, like it would break. I hurt for her... her pain...

"And now I'm not." Tears began to well in her eyes, "I was torn out of there. Pulled out... by my friends."

I resisted the urge to put a comforting arm around her shoulders, but just watched her, listening to words I now wished I'd never heard before.

"Everything here is... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch... this is hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that..." her voice became almost a whisper.

Oh god Buffy... I wanted to tell her, tell her things would get better, but no words would come. The shock of her revelation, it was so horrible, something I'd never thought of in my wildest dreams.

"...knowing what I've lost."

She looked up at me then, realizing, I think, for the first time that I was there. Her look of pain faded slowly and then Buffy stood, I could tell she had grown uncomfortable. The line between light and darkness stopped her and I truly believed she would turn back to me, tell me she was going to be alright.

"They can never know. Never."

Her back was all I could see, lightly bathed in sunlight, as she walked away from me, from her friends in the Magic Box. We had brought her back into this harsh world, maybe not me, but I wanted her back more than anything.

Buffy didn't have post hell trauma... she had been in heaven, happy for the first real time ever... and we'd destroyed it.

Standing, I wanted to rush into the Magic Box, tell the others what a mistake they'd made. But then I stopped and watched Buffy's fleeting form. I realized that, if told, her pain would become unbearable... I could never live with myself if she were put through that much, not now, not ever. 

Lifting up the manhole cover, I jumped down into the sewer, returning to my crypt. Evening would come in a few hours, Buffy would patrol, things would go back to the way they were... for some people. For me, things would never be the same. I had tried to kill her, destroy her life, her friends lives, and her happiness. Now, I wanted nothing more than to protect her from the nasties in life.

But I'd never be able to protect her from this... 

  
  
  
  


The End

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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